Saint Honesty
by pomatterpie
Summary: After Quinn threatened to expose her fling with Puck, Shelby decides to pack up and leave Lima again. But not before Rachel confronts her mother and demands for honesty. Two-Parts. Tag to S3E8 "Hold On To Sixteen"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my short fix-it to the Shelby/Puck disaster of season three because I always hated how S just leaves R again without any resolution after it all comes to a head and then we never hear from her again until she randomly pops up in NYC season four. Two-Parts. This happens immediately after the events of S3E8 "Hold On To Sixteen."**

* * *

Thunder loud enough to split her eardrums woke Rachel up from her fitful sleep. She flipped over and glanced at the time on the alarm clock. Two thirty in the morning. And it was one forty-five right before she closed her eyes, meaning she got through less than an hour of sleep.

As she sat up, a blinding flash of lightning cut across the window and illuminated her bedroom for a passing moment causing her to catch a glimpse of the star cup tucked away at the back of the bookcase. Without another thought, she threw the duvet off and rose to her feet. She crossed the room and pulled the cup off from the shelf and inspected it in her hands.

Flooded immediately with thoughts of _her_, she threw the glass into the wastebasket next to the desk with such a force that she was surprised it didn't shatter. Heat igniting in her chest, she grabbed the zip-up off the back of her chair and threw it on over her t-shirt. She grabbed her cell phone off the side table and walked out her room, making her way through the hallway and down the stairs in haste.

As soon as she touched down on the final landing, another deafening crack of thunder rumbled overhead, this one powerful enough for her to feel it tremble from her head to her toes. She was only a few feet away from the front door when the light within her dad's office suddenly turned on, causing her to jump in surprise and back against the wall. "Oh my god!"

"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" Hiram asked his seventeen-year-old as he walked out into the foyer. He'd just finished up work he took home from the office when he heard the miscreant making her way down the stairs.

"Holy crap, dad! You scared me!" Rachel exclaimed, clutching her chest as if to physically trap her racing heart.

Hiram quirked his eyebrows at his daughter questioningly. "Going somewhere, Rach? Need I remind you that one, it's two thirty in the morning and two, you're grounded."

Rachel flushed red at the reminder. More than anything, she hated disappointing her dads. She really did mean well when she stuffed the ballot box to help Kurt win the election for student body president. She just didn't think things through. She never did. And it was becoming increasingly evident to her that she seemed to have a bad habit of making impulsive decisions. Like tonight. But she couldn't help it.

"I know dad but—"

"But what, Rachel? Are you sneaking out to see Finn? Because that is completely unacceptable. It's the middle of the night. Not to mention that it's pouring rain out," Hiram scolded.

"I'm not going to see Finn," Rachel answered quickly but paused to search through the existing catalogue of excuses in her mind.

"I strongly suggest that you not lie to me right now Rachel Barbra, especially if you want to be ungrounded before you go to college," the father warned, practically hearing the teenager's mind whirring, cooking up some sort of cover.

Rachel's deep brown eyes flared at being read like a book. Though she shouldn't be surprised, Hiram and LeRoy Berry knew her better than she knew herself. They were, without a doubt, the best fathers a girl like Rachel could have ever asked for. They were doting, caring, affectionate and she loved them both dearly. They gave her everything: a happy childhood, a passion for art and music, and a future teeming with possibilities. They gave her everything she wanted, everything she needed, everything and more.

Except for that one thing.

"Rach?" Hiram's gentle voice cut into her thoughts. He sized his daughter up and wondered where the girl went just now. He then pursed his lips in a worried frown noticing her eyes glazed with tears. "Honey, are you okay?"

"She's leaving," Rachel whispered, her eyelashes fluttering almost frantically in an effort to clear the fog from her eyes.

"Who's leaving, hon?"

Rachel doesn't want to say her name. "She is."

Hiram only furrowed his brows and tilted his head in response. "Oh," he said a moment later, realization dawning on his face. "_She_ is? When?"

"Tomorrow," Rachel said, wiping away the unbidden tears with an angry hand. She forced herself to breathe to settle her emotions. She was not going to allow herself to cry over _her_ anymore. "Mr. Schue told me that she's leaving Lima again tomorrow. For good. Mr. Schue told me, dad. Not her. Mr. Schue."

"Rachel, honey, I'm so sorry," Hiram said, his heart twisting agonizingly at all the pain rapidly filling his daughter's all-too expressive brown eyes. If he could protect his little girl from everything, he would. But Rachel's birth mother was always a different matter. As grateful and as indebted he was to Shelby Corcoran, he also wished that she never existed. Because if she didn't, she wouldn't have been able to crush his daughter's heart, walk away without so much as a glance back, and leave it in pieces for him and his husband to put back together.

"I just—I need to talk to her," Rachel said. "Before she goes away again. Before she leaves _me_ again. I need to talk to her."

"Rach, I don't think that's a good idea," Hiram said sadly. "What do you need to talk to her about? Because I really don't think there's anything she can say at this point that will help you feel better, hon. I just don't want her to hurt you."

Before she could reply, Rachel found herself drawn into an unexpected embrace. Savoring in the familiar comfort, she released a heavy sigh as she melted into her father's arms, which she's deemed, as one of the softest places in the world to land.

"She already has."

* * *

Somehow, in the seconds Rachel sprinted from the house to the car, the storm crashing down seemed to have picked up more energy. Sliding into the protection of the vehicle, she allowed herself a moment to regroup and sat in silence as the steady downpour thrummed against the rooftop. Falling. She felt like she was falling as hard and as fast as the world around her. And she needed to gain control. She needed to stop thinking. She needed to stop thinking because she was never going to do this if she thought about it. She needed her heart to take over her brain. And she could do it one step at a time. All she had to do was start the car. Start the car and go see her.

Start the car.

Go see her.

Repeating the mantra over and over again in her head, she buckled the seatbelt and pushed the key in the ignition.

Start the car. Go see her.

She drove street by street, focused solely on navigating to her destination; trying and fighting against every urge she had to turn back around. She's certain it was her imagination, but the closer she got, the more the rainfall intensified. Releasing her vice-like grip of the steering wheel, she stretched her hand one after the other to induce the blood flow. Eyes concentrated on the slick, wet roads ahead of her, the whining of the windshield drowned out any and every thought screaming at her to just go back home. It was an efficient distraction. Efficient enough that before she realized it, she was pulling into the parking lot of the apartment building. Now all she had to do was get out of the car and go see her.

Get out of the car. Go see her.

Rachel looked up at the tall apartment complex, the warmth and the shelter luring her in, but she refused to move any more than that. Any courage she had worked up earlier seemed to have deserted her in record speed. Still clutching the steering wheel, she couldn't bring herself to notice how her knuckles turned stark white because all she could think about was _her_. And how she's been chronically late to AP Lit almost every day for the past three months because she had to take the long way there from Calc just to avoid running into her_._ How she couldn't listen to Lady Gaga anymore because it infuriated her. How frequent it was that summer after for one of her dads to crawl into bed with her and hold her until the tears dissipated. How it took her weeks to be able to look at Quinn or Puck without instantly feeling nauseous. How this is not how she expected her senior year to go. How she hated herself for asking her to write that letter. How it took _everything_ she had to defend her to Quinn. How she came. How she left. How she was going to leave again. How, through it all, she still wanted _her._

And above all else, how badly she wanted to know why. Why she wasn't… why she didn't… why she couldn't… why.

All she had to do was get out of the car.

Go see her.

* * *

Stepping out into the hallway, Shelby shut the door to Beth's bedroom with a soft click right as another clap of thunder battered her ears. Rooted to her spot, she prayed, _prayed_ that the baby that she had just finished settling down would remain asleep. She stood perfectly still and held her breath, focusing her energy on listening for any signs of distress from the child. Hearing none, she released a weary sigh and made her way back to the disaster that was her living room.

Her eyes traveled across the room in dissatisfaction and landed on the clock still hung up on the wall. It was almost three. The movers were coming at seven. They'd be on the road by eight. She had just scrubbed the bathroom. Packed the bedrooms. Cleaned the kitchen. The only thing left was to organize the living room.

Lists she can manage. Tasks she can handle. It kept her occupied. It kept her moving. So that she couldn't stop and think about _her_. Couldn't stop and think about how she's managed to ruin everything once again. Couldn't stop and think—think about how she came back to Lima hellbent on fixing her mistakes and now she's leaving again with more, more ways she's hurt those around her, to show for it.

Sighing, Shelby tucked loose strands of her brunette locks behind her ears and stretched languidly before deciding to tie all of her hair up in a ponytail. She rolled up the sleeves of her ratty, gray Ohio State long-sleeved t-shirt and then picked up one of the moving boxes she'd just taped together before being interrupted by Beth's cries.

After placing the box in front of the couch, she picked up the framed photo of Beth on the end table and grazed her thumb over it, guilt immediately burned through her heart as sure as acid burned through metal. She _had_ to do better. She had to _be_ better.

As soon as she set the frame down in the box, she heard knocking on the front door, sharp and pointed, almost sounding like gunshots to her overly sensitive ears. Maneuvering her way through the chaos and forgetting to check through the peephole, she unlocked and opened the door, her breath catching in her throat immediately.

Shelby felt lightning crackle through her veins and time slowed down as she came face to face with the last person she was expecting to find out in the hallway_._ For an undetermined amount of time, neither one of them said anything, neither one of them moved. Apart from the howling of the wind echoing against the edges of the building, complete and total silence engulfed them. It was only when the rainfall outside escalated and picked up speed until the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise did she break from her reverie.

With a sharp inhale, she forced herself back into focus and finally realized that Rachel was drenched from the rain, her hair dripping wet, soaked clothes clinging to her skin, a puddle beginning to form at her feet. The girl also had dark, prominent circles under her eye and a sallow complexion. Shelby cringed, unable to help a sense of responsibility for all of this.

"Were you going to say goodbye?" Rachel asked in a throaty growl. "Or were you just going to leave again without saying anything to me? Just like how you came back without saying anything to me? Are you just going to keep coming and going as you please? Are going to keep doing whatever _you _want? Do you even care, Shelby? Are you even thinking about anyone else but yourself?"

It took another grueling silence-filled moment for Shelby to find her voice, the barrage of questions piercing deep into her heart like a hot, sharp knife cutting into butter. "Rachel...do your dads know you're here?"

Rachel shook her head furiously, a wave of anger crashing through her. Why was _she_ so disappointing? Why couldn't she ever just say the right thing? "Were you going to say bye?"

Swallowing back the taste of metal in her mouth, Shelby also shook her head in response. "No," she heard herself say, knowing that anything that less than the truth would set the girl off. "I—no, I wasn't going to say bye."

Struck by the honesty, Rachel tightened her lips together and pressed them closed. Every word she had meticulously strung together in the parking lot a few minutes ago abandoned her at an alarming rate. And suddenly she felt so exposed, with no defense, nothing to protect her, no piano in between them or a song to sing, no distraction from the fact that she was standing in front of her estranged mother and choking on the vulnerability and insecurity rolling through her. She always gave _her_ too much of herself.

"I wasn't going to say goodbye, Rachel, because I didn't know how to," Shelby said, choosing her words carefully. This conversation was like a sandcastle. One wrong word and the entire thing would surely collapse, taking their hearts down with it. "I didn't think you'd want me to. I've already—I have already done enough. I didn't think saying goodbye would make things any easier for you."

"Easier for me? Or easier for you?" Rachel lambasted, losing control of any semblance of calm. "Because you packing everything up and leaving in the middle of the night would be easy for me? Do I really mean that little to you, Shelby?"

"Of course not," Shelby replied quickly. That's the one question so far that she can answer without any deliberation, without a single hesitation. She dropped her gaze and tried to control her breathing that was quickly growing irregular. And she briefly wondered if they would ever be in a place where they could be together and it would be natural, easy, and not like the ground beneath them was crumbling. "Of course not, Rachel. You must know that."

"I _don't_ know that," Rachel said, keeping her voice even and measured, despite how badly she just wanted to scream. "I don't know that because you've never told me."

Pure shame gnawing at her insides, Shelby only drooped her shoulders in a quiet resignation. At this point, she didn't know what else to say, what else she could say to the girl she was desperately not to think of as _her daughter_. "Would you like to come inside?"

Holding her breath for a response, another crack of thunder roared outside, and this one, caused both her and Rachel to flinch. She had no idea where this storm came from, but it seemed as though it was gaining strength by the second. "Please come in," she implored, her tone concerned. "At least until the weather lets up. I don't want you to drive back home in this. We can… we can talk."

Everything inside of Rachel automatically screamed at her to just leave right now. To leave before she could find more ways to be disappointed by her mother. To leave before she could grow to resent her more than she already does. But she found herself nodding her approval. Because she got out of the car. And went to see her. So now all she had to do was go inside and talk.

Go inside. And talk.

* * *

Rachel stood awkwardly in the middle of a sea of boxes, some packed and taped, others still overflowing and unorganized, and she felt a sudden rush of anxiety wash over her. Shortly after letting her in Shelby excused herself to grab her a towel to dry off.

Rachel was only vaguely aware of her surroundings because she was fairly certain that this was the most nervous she'd been since...ever. She'd never been this nervous in her entire life. She wanted to look around, to see what the inside of her birth mother's house looked like despite the random chaos scattered everywhere, but she chose to remain as still as possible instead.

Hearing Shelby's footsteps approach, she clenched her jaw and locked down on the fear and nerves coursing through her. She could do this. This was no different from a dance recital or a show choir competition. All she had to do was channel all of her negative energy and focus on her performance. She squared her shoulders as Shelby handed her a towel and forced herself to give her a cool smile.

"Sorry, I would give you a change of clothes but everything in my closet is packed. I can toss your jacket in the dryer for you, though? And I'm sorry that it's a disaster zone here. I only have the living room left to sort out. You did tell your dads that you were here, right? It's the middle of the night and I don't want them to worry in case they wake up and see you gone. Do you, uh, want something to drink?"

Rachel doesn't know whether or not to take comfort in the fact that Shelby was acting as rattled as she felt, and it wasn't lost on her that this was the first time she's ever seen the woman like this. Not as the sharply dressed, put-together, and commanding vocal coach that Rachel was used to, but this. Without a single trace of makeup, or the expensive clothes and the calm, collected professional demeanor, Shelby looked exhausted and scared and a little bit lost. In fact, she looked a lot like her right now.

"They know. And water is fine, thank you," Rachel replied after sinking down on the vacant spot on the couch.

Nodding, Shelby began to weave through the mess on her way to the kitchen. "Good. Because I think if I remember correctly, LeRoy was always such a worrier. When I was pregnant with you, he was so overprotective and overly cautious. But it didn't bother me, I actually think it drove Hiram crazier more than anyone else. Are they uh—are they still like that?"

"Oh yes, definitely. And I think daddy's only gotten worse. I'm not entirely sure how he's going to handle me going away to college next year."

"Are you applying anywhere other than NYADA?"

Rachel shrugged casually as she used the towel to wring the ends of her hair dry. "Probably. Maybe NYU. I'm still figuring it all out, but all I know with certainty is that I want to be in New York next year. It's the only place that I've ever wanted to go, so I am going to do everything I can to make it there."

Taken by the conviction in Rachel's voice, Shelby paused in front of the fridge before turning back around. "I meant what I said the other day, Rachel. Maybe I don't have the right to be but I am proud of you."

"Even when I sabotage student body elections and get myself suspended?" Rachel chuckled humorlessly.

"You just have to stay focused," Shelby replied. "You're smart, and talented, and hardworking, that much I know about you. And you just have to stay focused. You don't have to cheat or manipulate others or cut corners to get what you want. Because you can have it all if you're honest and kind and you do your best and work hard. I know you're capable of that, Rachel. Everything else will come if you focus and do that much."

"Is that what you did when you went to New York?" Rachel asked rhetorically, not keen on listening to any of the woman's platitudes at the moment. She resolved that Shelby lost the right to offer her any more advice when she decided to leave again. "Because that didn't seem to work out too well for you."

Shelby ignored the barb as she opened the door to her nearly empty refrigerator and pulled out a water bottle. She walked back over to the girl and offered it to her, their first reunion flashing before her eyes as Rachel accepted the drink.

"I didn't get to go to New York for college," Shelby said, picking up the box she abandoned earlier and decided to work on the bookcase next. She had to keep moving. "Did you know that my mom died when I was younger? I was six. So my entire life, it was just my dad and I."

Rachel only nodded and reclined back in her position on the couch, giving her a silent permission to continue.

"Anyway, we couldn't afford it, me going away, so I stayed in-state and got a teaching degree at OSU. My plan was to work for a year or two, save up all my money, and then try my hand in New York. I've always loved singing," Shelby cleared her throat and pushed past the lump that was forming in order to explain. She doesn't know what Rachel wanted to hear from her. But she figured that the beginning would be a good place to start. "I'm not good at a lot of things. I can't catch a ball or anything like that. I got good grades but I had to work hard for them. But I was always a good singer. That was the one thing I knew was special about me. And I _really, really_ wanted it, Rachel. So badly. Back then, I felt like I needed it more than I needed to breathe. It was everything, you know? It was going to be my way out. It was going to change everything for me."

Rachel's stomach flipped at that remark because she did know. Because that's exactly how she felt, all the time, and maybe apart from Jesse, she hasn't met anyone else who came even remotely close to understanding that.

"So, I got a job substitute teaching for the school district right after I graduated. It was fine, and I was saving up money. But I also felt like I was losing myself a little bit every day that I was here and not on Broadway where I wanted to be. It was killing me, not being able to use my gift. But one day, I saw an ad in the newspaper," Shelby continued, not missing how Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Your fathers' ad. And the money they were offering—it was a lot back then. It was almost my salary for the entire year. It was more than enough to help me get to where I wanted to be."

"You know the only thing that I'm getting out of this right now is that all I was was a means to an end for you," Rachel accused, crossing her arms tightly over her chest to highlight her disapproval. "That all you wanted was the money. To get what _you _wanted."

"No, Rachel, that's not where I'm getting at," Shelby froze in the middle of her task and mentally cursed her inability to do or say anything right whenever the girl was in her vicinity. "That's not what I meant. Just please listen."

"Okay, thank you," Shelby continued after receiving a terse nod. "Yes, maybe I did answer that ad to get what I wanted. But I also did it to give your dads what _they wanted_. When I met with them, they told me that I was the only one who answered it, because no one else was taking them seriously. And that they've been trying for years to have a family, but kept being rejected by the state and adoption agencies. They were great guys and they were kind and genuine and I saw how desperately they wanted to be fathers, how much they wanted a baby. And yes, I'm not going to lie to you, I did want the money, but I also really did want to help them start a family."

"Whose idea was the contract?"

"I'm not sure. I don't remember, but I think one of their friends advised your dads to draw up a contract to protect them from me changing my mind and wanting to keep you. But I was also so young, Rachel. I was only a few years older than you are now and I wasn't ready to be a mom, so when I signed it I didn't know. I didn't fully understand what I was giving up."

"But you said that you didn't regret it?" Rachel prodded. While she can empathize with what Shelby was saying, she also can't help but question her. It's been two years, and she was still just as confused now as she was the day she snuck into Vocal Adrenaline rehearsal.

"I told you yes _and_ no when you first asked if I regretted it," Shelby pointed out. "It's complicated."

"Please explain." It's been two years. And now she wanted the truth.

Shelby nodded and reached for the tape on the coffee table, avoiding Rachel's critical gaze in the process. She looked down inside the box, half-wishing her currently writhing heart to be sitting there so she can also pack it up and keep it safe.

"No. I don't regret signing the contract because how could I, Rachel?" Shelby released a shaky breath. "Look at you. You are… look at everything you've accomplished. You're going to go to NYADA next year and you're going to be amazing. You're going to be a star. And a lot of that is because of your dads and what they were able to provide for you. They've given you everything, right? They've always supported you and cared for you and correct me if I'm wrong, Rachel, but I know that they've given you everything you needed, and I couldn't have—I wouldn't have been able to do that for you. As much as I might have wanted to."

"You wanted to?" Rachel asked in a half-whisper, in a voice soft enough that if Shelby didn't have musically trained ears, she might've missed it.

"Of course I did," Shelby said in a tone that demonstrated that she heard her loud and clear. "And that's the part I regret. I… fell in love with you, Rachel. When I was carrying you, I fell in love. But agreeing to be a surrogate also meant agreeing to the distance. I didn't have you for me. I had you for your dads, so I didn't feel like I had a right to ask them for anything more than what was stipulated in the contract. I figured that I _could_ wait until you were old enough and then just try to forge a relationship with you then. But I don't know, maybe I should've fought for more, I should've asked, I should've tried to be a part of your life when you were younger, I should've… I should've done a lot of things. But I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't. And not doing anything, Rachel, will forever be my biggest regret."

Shelby had been focusing on her hands taping the box close throughout the whole monologue and kept staring down, almost being able to sell that she was truly entranced with her own packaging skills. It was only when she heard a sniffle did she bring her eyes up to find Rachel with her head hung and thick tears slowly spilling down her cheeks. Shelby felt instantly nauseated at the sight.

"Rachel?"

"I'm sorry," Rachel shook her head furtively, extremely betrayed by her emotions. "I thought that hearing this would help me feel better, but it doesn't. It's not. It's only making it worse. I'm so sorry, Shelby. Maybe I should just go. I don't..."

The end of Rachel's sentence was drowned out by the abrupt noise of what sounded like stones clinking against the windowpane. In a simultaneous motion, the two rotated their heads to peer through the window taking in the livid black clouds and the torrential downpour, attacking the building like an impenetrable gunfire. Then almost comically, the sure sound of Beth's cries through the baby monitor automatically filled the room.

In a panic, Shelby immediately shifted her attention back to Rachel, the girl's obvious anxiety over the situation completely displayed across her far too expressive face. "Please stay. Let me just go check on Beth, but please don't go anywhere. I—this is hard for me too, but I want you to know where I'm coming from. That's why you came, right? For answers?"

Rachel opened and closed her mouth soundlessly and glanced back out the window, carefully considering Shelby's question. She did want answers. She wanted honesty. But she didn't realize how much it would hurt. How much it'd drown her. She'd rather be dry and warm. Than this. She wanted to run away and try to never see her birth mother again. But something in the way that Shelby was looking at her rendered her frozen. They were already in it now. In the middle of this storm, so she may as well stay and hear her out. Stay and listen.

Stay.

And listen.

* * *

**A/N: This was also inspired by Sara Bareilles' newest single "Saint Honesty," been listening to it and then my mind went here with S and R. **


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel shut her eyes and slumped back on the couch, resting her weary head against the cushion. Desperate to clear her mind, she drew in a generous breath as sheer exhaustion seeped into her bones. She needed to regroup. She could feel herself losing control over the situation, and she was not about to have a breakdown over this right now. Definitely not in front of her.

She wanted to slip out of there while Shelby was attending to Beth in the other room. She's convinced that she could make it undetected. She could leave and not look back and move forward and never think about Shelby Corcoran ever again. At this point, she certainly wanted to.

Maybe she only had herself to blame. She's had two years to deal with her feelings regarding her birth mother. She's definitely convinced her dads she had. But admittedly, she had just buried them deep and let them fester. And now that she was being forced to face them head on, she felt like she was upside down and inside out. Truthfully, she always felt either nothing or far too much when it came to Shelby. And it was currently the latter that was knocking her sideways.

She brushed her hands through her long, dark hair and attempted to still her racing mind by focusing her energy on listening to the susurration of the continuous rainfall outside. Concentrated on the pitter patter of the rain, it took her a few moments to register the sound of Shelby's melodic voice softly singing a lullaby to Beth through the baby monitor.

Rachel felt something awfully painful twist in her chest in response, and she really didn't like it. She didn't want to accept that it's jealousy, because it _couldn't_ be. She had nothing to be jealous of because Shelby wasn't her mom. That much was clear.

She swiped the radio off the end table and turned the volume down then rose to her feet. It was taking all the will power she possessed not to make a dash for the door, not to look back.

Making a split-second decision, she moved through the clutter of the living room and grabbed one of the moving boxes placed against the wall and began to assemble it. She needed something to do other than just sit there. Because if she continued to process, she would be halfway home by now.

Once she put it together, she picked up the nearest miscellaneous pile and began to sort through it. She never would have pegged Shelby for a sentimental type but there was a mountain of photo albums that Rachel refused to look through. Once she filled the box, she packaged it together and moved on to the next pile. And then another. She's not sure how much time had passed before Shelby walked back into the living room while she was in the middle of taping her third box close.

"You don't have to do that," Shelby said, seventy-five percent sure she was going to return to an empty living room. "I can take care of it."

Rachel shrugged as she handed the packing tape to the older woman. "It's fine. You're leaving. It has to be done. And you had to take care of your daughter."

The hard edge in Rachel's voice wasn't completely unexpected, but Shelby still found herself at a loss for words. "_But you're my daughter too"_ was what she wanted to say but she only looked away hurriedly. "I am sorry, Rachel. I don't know if that will help you feel better at all, but you have to know that I am sorry. For all of it. For everything that I didn't do and for everything that I have done that may have hurt you. It's… I'm just sorry."

Predicting that she wasn't going to elicit a response from the apology, Shelby continued to avert Rachel's gaze, preferring to keep her focus on what she needed to say without allowing any emotion to stop her.

"It was selfish of me. I realize that now. It was selfish of me to have forced myself into your life two years ago just to walk away. There is… there is no excuse for me disrupting your life in that way. But I just, this entire time, I was picturing the baby girl I had given up and then I saw how grown up you were Rachel, and I panicked. I convinced myself that you didn't need me and that there wasn't a place for me in your life. And I mean even now, I still think that. But I also realize now that it should not have been about me. I should have considered your feelings and how it was going to affect you."

"You went through years of being okay with being away from me though," Rachel questioned, her voice full of skepticism. "What changed? And please don't tell me that it was just because you saw me sing at Sectionals. I mean I know Barbra is life-changing and all, but still."

Shelby chuckled softly at what was such a quintessential Rachel remark, a small smile forming on her lips at the realization that she even knew what classified as a quintessential Rachel remark.

"I was never okay with being away from you, Rachel, I just… lived with it," she sighed.

She's spent almost 18 years refusing to think about this. She rarely allowed herself to. But now that they were here, she was determined to say every single word even if they hurt. _Especially_ because they hurt. Maybe it was time to let it go.

She felt Rachel's eyes rest on her, like a physical press on her skin, and she suddenly felt the weight of this conversation. The pressure. The need to explain.

"Would you like some tea?" Shelby offered, buying more time to collect herself.

Rachel hesitated with her mouth open to speak, blinked up at the woman, and then bit her lip. "Uh, sure… but do you have—?"

"I only have herbal tea, if that's okay."

"... herbal tea," Rachel finished her sentence, her lips quirking into an amused smile and then nodded slowly. "That sounds good."

"Okay, great," Shelby relaxed, finally relieved that she's been able to do _s_omething right. "Let me go put on a kettle." She turned on her heel then exhaled once she finally felt Rachel's inquisitive gaze shift somewhere else.

Rachel's smile then faltered realizing that the woman never answered her question. The sound of the cupboard closing brought her to her feet and spurred her toward the kitchen. She was going to get one whether Shelby wanted to give it or not.

"What happened in New York?" Rachel fished as she perched herself on the bar stool.

"What do you mean?"

"After you had me for my dads, after you left Ohio."

Shelby nodded in understanding while she twisted her wrist to turn on the stove then placed the kettle on top of the open fire. "I don't know. I… I definitely tried. I went to every audition, took the classes, networked with the right people, rehearsed then rehearsed some more. I pushed myself. I put in the work. I wanted it. But it just… didn't work out for me. I booked some off-Broadway roles, a few workshops, did the swing thing for a bit… and I was always told that I had raw talent and that I had _potential_… but nothing, nothing happened beyond that. I never got the big role. I never got my big break. The stars just never aligned for me in the way that I always thought… _believed_… that it would."

"So those who can't, teach?" Rachel said, genuinely saddened at how Shelby seemed to have missed her chance. Through it all, the one opinion that she's maintained about her birth mother was that the woman was nothing if not talented. And Rachel wholly believed that her mezzo-soprano voice with a powerhouse behind it could burst through the ceiling of any Broadway theater. If Shelby couldn't make it, what chance would she have?

The failed actress chuckled humorlessly at the conclusion drawn. "Yeah. I guess," she shrugged, folding her arms across her chest protectively then leaned against the counter. "It was always my back up plan. But back then that's just what it was, a back up plan. I didn't think that it's what I would spend the rest of my life doing. But I, I don't know, I _hated_ failing. I… I despised it. I never wanted to feel that way ever again in my entire life, so I resolved that whatever I did next that I had to do and be better. I channeled everything I had into teaching and then eventually, I did start to enjoy it. And then Vocal Adrenaline happened, and that was that."

"When did you move back to Ohio?" Rachel spouted next, worried that that if she didn't ask her questions fast enough, then the window that had just cracked open would shut back down without warning.

"Early 2004?" Shelby contemplated. "You would have been ten then. A friend of mine told me about the opening at Carmel. At that point, there was nothing left for me in New York. And then I wanted to be closer to my dad and to be closer to… I just needed a change then."

Rachel frowned inwardly at the pivot and couldn't help the expression from bleeding onto her face at the fact that Shelby couldn't even bring herself to admit that she wanted her in her life then. Why was it so difficult for her to acknowledge that? Why couldn't she just say that out loud?

"What happened to your dad? Does he still live in the area?"

"No he doesn't," Shelby paused and stopped talking for a few seconds as she felt her throat tighten uncomfortably. She rarely spoke about her parents to anyone, she _never_ spoke about him, and she was determined not to let Rachel hear her voice crack. "He died shortly after I moved back. It was a heart attack. It was sudden, unexpected. He was supposed to come over and help me re-paint my living room. He was late… and then he was just gone."

Rachel felt a startling wave of sadness wash over her over the loss of a grandparent she'd never really considered prior to this moment. The man had clearly been important to Shelby, and she sincerely wished that she knew him. "I'm sorry," she offered. "That must have been difficult."

"It was," Shelby heard herself admit. "He was the only family I had. He was… he did everything he could to be a good dad to me."

"I would have liked to have met him," Rachel said truthfully.

"I think he would have really enjoyed meeting you too," Shelby replied, guilt rising in her chest knowing full well she was the only reason why her father and her daughter never got that chance. "He was the football coach over at Western High for years. They won the state title three times while he was there."

"I guess building championship winning teams runs in the family then," Rachel pointed out, earning a small smile from the older woman that reminded her again at how beautiful her mother was and how it was all there—the same full mouth, the big, bright as stars eyes, the long, dark hair, the sharp, angular cheekbones. How _she_ was all there in her mother's face.

"I _really_ considered it then, Rachel," Shelby said quietly at first then cleared her throat, pitching her voice higher while she summoned the little strength she had left inside her to continue. "I also moved back then because I wanted to be closer… to you. I got the stable job. I got a house. I was going to go to your dads and ask to be in your life then. But then my dad died and it just, it knocked me off my feet. And losing him also made me realize that I didn't know anything about being a mother. I never had one. I only had him. I didn't have a frame of reference to use. I didn't know where to begin, and I didn't want to mess up. I just… didn't know."

Rachel only nodded her response and tried to consciously keep her face passive. With her dads, she never had a shred of doubt that they always wanted her, how much they needed her in their lives. Hearing Shelby talk about how she was only _considering_ being in her life, going back and forth, and ultimately deciding against it, didn't exactly provide her with that same warm, fuzzy feeling of belonging. In fact it had the complete opposite effect. And it wasn't like Rachel didn't understand loss or sympathize with how that may have impacted her, but all she was hearing was that Shelby didn't even try. She didn't think it worth it to try. Surely, if she wanted it badly enough, she would've at least tried.

The shrill whistling of the tea kettle cut through the silence-filled air, automatically drawing both of their attentions. Shelby moved first and leaned over to turn off the fire then busied herself with preparing the tea, not oblivious to how Rachel's entire demeanor seemed to have shifted, tensed up significantly. She doesn't know whether or not any of this was making the girl feel any better, because she couldn't necessarily say that it was bringing her any comfort or closure either. After she finished pouring the steaming, hot liquid, Shelby finally tilted her head up and watched Rachel swallow hard in an attempt to remove the lump forming in her throat.

It's not as if Rachel was actively choosing to be woefully disappointed with every part of the woman's story so far, but for the past two years, a part of her had held hope that one day Shelby was going to explain everything with all the right words, the appropriate answers, the correct statements that would finally allow her to absolve her mother, or at least _anything_ but this muddled, complicated and, quite frankly, horribly depressing tale that she was struggling to absorb.

"So do you regret not asking my dads then? I mean, I was still young when you moved back then, you could've still had some of my childhood left with me?" Rachel finally asked in a tone that suggested that she wasn't sure she wanted an answer.

"I don't know, Rachel. Like I told you earlier, standing here in front of you now, no, I can't really say that I do regret it."

Rachel dropped her eyes to the tea cup that was just offered to her. "Oh."

Shelby sighed because she's certain that she had never heard one word convey so much disappointment.

"No. That's not what I mean Rachel. I told you," she scrambled to clarify her words. "I see who and where you are now and I can't regret it, Rachel. I just can't because I love everything about you. I wouldn't change a single thing about you. A lot of that is because of your fathers and the wonderful job they did raising you, and I don't know that I could have ever compared."

On impulse, Shelby reached across the countertop and Rachel nearly jumped when she felt a hand cover hers. Shelby was staring at her intently with a silent compassion, and it was the first time that Rachel drew any true comfort from her mother's touch.

"They did give me everything," Rachel said, unaware of just how much that confirmation meant to Shelby. There was no dearth of love in her family, and she knew that. No matter what torment she endured at school, obstacles that were thrown her way, or cruelty she was dealt from others, through the years, her fathers and their home had always been a safe haven, a cozy place where she could be herself and knew that she would always be protected. She was lucky to have two wonderful dads. Her wish to know her mother had nothing to do with any feelings of inadequacy about her childhood with her fathers.

"But I guess, sometimes, I just wished that I had a mother too."

If Shelby wasn't listening so attentively, she might have missed Rachel's softly spoken words or the embarrassed heat that touched her cheeks. She gently applied pressure on the girl's hand in response, because if only she could explain how, for her, it was simultaneously the sweetest and most agonizing thing that her daughter could have ever said to her.

With one more squeeze, she withdrew her hand away, instantly missing the contact. "I am sorry, Rachel."

Rachel contemplated her answer while her hand clenched the delicate tea cup she was holding. For the most part, she considered herself a forgiving person. She's always tried to look for the good in people. Even when it was difficult to find. Throughout their entire relationship, all Finn ever had to do was say he was sorry and everything would be forgiven. Quinn has never even apologized. Not for the slushies hurled in her face, or the salacious pictures of her drawn on the bathroom stalls, and the hurtful names said behind her back. And Rachel didn't even need her to because she's chosen to let it all go and decided instead to focus on the good moments that she's had with her, the friendship that she felt was growing. She's even absolved Jesse for everything that he's put her through: the manipulation, the lies, the egg smashed on her head. And she was truly in love with him. Yet here Shelby was, practically begging her for forgiveness and Rachel doesn't know if she can forgive and forget or even just forgive and move on. Somehow, it was easier for her to forgive boys who have broken her heart or girls who were mean to her, than it was for her to forgive her own mother. Shouldn't it have been easier? After all, they were family. She is her mother. She also couldn't even wonder if she would be able to forgive her fathers for this because she couldn't begin to picture a reality where they would ever put her in a position where she would be questioning whether or not they wanted her or whether or not they loved her. She couldn't even really recall the last time her dads had to apologize to her for anything. It was always the other way around. Her apologizing for making a mistake, for messing up, for not thinking things through. Them forgiving her, giving her second chances, and showing her the unconditional love and support that they've always consistently provided her.

The violent lashing of the rainfall against the windows jarred her from her thoughts and she placed the now-empty tea cup back down on the counter. She looked up in time to watch Shelby gaze out the window towards the darkened, angry night sky, seeing something there that Rachel couldn't. At first glance, Shelby doesn't appear to be fragile. However, as Rachel watched her stare at the tumult of the storm and listened to her sigh, this deep, quivering sigh, told her that despite her control, Shelby never really quite has it together, and that there were times, like this, that showed her that she couldn't pretend well either.

"I have never been more hurt in my entire life," Rachel managed to choke out, finally permitting herself to jump off the ledge. "You're my mom, and you're not supposed to hurt me. My dads would never make me feel this way."

"I know," Shelby agreed, nodding her head slowly, apologetically. She focused on her foot as it tapped the kitchen tile anxiously. She felt, rather than saw, Rachel stare at her expectantly. "I can't have any more children," she cleared her throat, feeling a sudden rush of bravery and wanting to get everything off her chest before that feeling went away. "There were issues a few years back and then some surgery and that's that. I really wanted a daughter. That's why it was so important to me to make that bond with you sophomore year when I saw you at Sections. But… I wanted my baby back. And you're an adult now. You're grown up. You didn't need me."

"You didn't ask," Rachel countered swiftly. "That was a conclusion that you drew yourself based on a single story that I told you about my dads comforting me. And you were the one that determined that we couldn't have anything like that anymore. That it was too late for us."

"And _you _said that you didn't feel that connection either," Shelby hit back, frustration crackling inside her. How much longer could they do this to each other? How much more could they hurt one another?

"Because I knew you were coming to say goodbye to me that day!" Rachel stood up abruptly and the legs of the bar stool screeched gratingly against the floor. "And it was easier for me to say _that_ than it was for me to stand there all pathetic and ask you to be in my life when you so clearly didn't want to be. So yes, I lied. But _you_, Shelby, you were the one who didn't question it, you were the one who just walked away so easily."

"Nothing about that was _easy_ Rachel!" Shelby snapped, losing control as quickly as the pounding rain fell against the glass and metal around them. "No matter what _you_ say. No matter what you think. No matter how you rationalize it in your head and make me out to be this horrible, neglectful person, nothing about leaving you when you were a baby, when you were a child, two years ago, or even now, _nothing_ about this is even remotely easy for me. I lost my chance with you Rachel, and it kills me. It _kills_ me. Every single day. Not a moment has gone by in your life where I haven't thought about this. I can guarantee you that, Rachel. So, please, God, just please stop saying that any of this is _easy_ on me. Because you—you have always been the most difficult thing I've ever done. You've always been the hardest, the most frustrating, the most painful, the… _best_ fucking thing I've ever done. And this isn't easy for me. Not even in the slightest. As hard as it is for you, I can promise you that it's just as hard for me. Okay? It is _not_ easy."

"Okay."

"Okay," Shelby echoed, throwing her own cup of tea in the sink then headed back towards the living room. Whatever happened at the end of this conversation, at the end of this night, she was still leaving in the morning. No matter how bloodied, or bruised, or knocked down she was at the end of this, she still had to leave.

"And this is _exactly _our problem, Rachel," she remarked as she put another box together. "You have too many expectations."

"Excuse me?" The teenager closed and opened her eyes in an entirely dramatic fashion that was _all _Rachel.

"You expect too much of me," Shelby said in an obvious tone that ignited a swell of irritation inside of Rachel.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is."

"No it's not," she insisted. "I _don't_ have too many expectations. I just want you to try."

"I _am_ trying, Rachel. But I just don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"What to do! What to say!" Shelby burst out in matching frustration, dropping the box on the floor then mindlessly began to chuck whatever object that was in her radius into it. "I just don't know anymore because even throughout this entire conversation, I can basically see your blatant disappointment in me at every turn. And that is always, and probably will _always_, be our problem, Rachel. Don't lie to me, when we met two years ago, you were expecting this perfect mother. You've probably spent your entire life dreaming of what your mom would be like. And I know I don't really know you all that well, Rachel, but I do know that you dream _really big_, so excuse me for thinking that I never had a chance. You had, what sounds like to me, an essentially perfect childhood with the perfect parents, so forgive me for thinking that I didn't have a place in your life. For a lot of reasons, _especially_ because I didn't feel like I could live up to your expectations, and more than I can probably put into words, I didn't feel like I belonged."

"And you wanted someone else, you were expecting someone else. You wanted a legendary Broadway star with fame and fortune like Patti LuPone right? Or Bernadette Peters? At least that's what Jesse told me. But instead you got me, this failed actress turned teacher because _those who can't_. And you wanted me to be this mother that I will never become, so I walked away because I didn't want to let you down. And even now, you expect me to say the right words or do the right things, but I can't, Rachel. That's hardly my forte, and you must know that by now. I can't. I'm just me. And I mess up, all the time. I make mistakes, far too many of them. I walk away, because I get scared. I bail, when things get hard, even when I know I shouldn't. I'm messy. I'm imperfect. I… this is who I am. And I truly don't know if that will ever be okay with you. If that will ever be enough. If I will ever meet your expectations. I will _never_ be the mother that you expect me to be."

Shelby carelessly hurled a book she picked up towards the box but missed, causing the copy of "A Doll's House" to fly across the room and land right by Rachel's feet with a resounding thud against the hardwood floor. She brought her gaze from the book up to Rachel's eyes and instantly felt nauseated by the clear hurt brightening them. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly and tried to speak but another deafening crack of thunder clapped overhead and jostled her thoughts. Before she could formulate a sentence together, she watched Rachel pivot on her heel, expecting her to head for the door, but instead navigated her way to the couch and lowered herself down, sinking in a way that only illustrated pure defeat and surrender.

"I'm sorry."

An expression of profound surprise crossed Shelby's sharp features. "What?"

"You're right. Not about all of it. But you are right. Maybe I did… _do _expect too much of you."

"It's…" Shelby paused and frowned worriedly watching a scowl flit across Rachel's face. "What's wrong? Do you have a headache?"

Rachel's brows furrowed together in confusion and only then did she realize that she was wearing a pained grimace while she rubbed her left eye with her fist, attempting to relieve the pounding in her skull. She sighed, cursing her lack of self-control as she forced her hand to drop back down to her side.

"Rachel?" Shelby pressed, probing through the girl's apparent physical discomfort when she didn't receive a response.

"I'm okay, sorry. I'm just tired, I guess," she said, breaking out into a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Oh," Shelby cringed at the realization at how late it was. It was just past four o'clock. She peered out the window and examined the weather, the storm outside still unwavering, still tormenting. "I don't—I still don't think you should drive in this weather. Do you mind staying a little while longer? You can… you can rest here. Or do you want me to call your dads to pick you up, if you'd prefer that?"

"No," Rachel shook her head in protest. "It's okay. I, I'm not ready. Can I stay a little longer? If you don't care. Or do you want me to leave so you can finish packing?"

"No, it's okay. Stay," Shelby replied without any hesitation. "Please stay. You can stay as long as you want."

Rachel nodded gratefully and reclined against the couch battling the bone-deep exhaustion coursing through her entire body with everything she had. Her headache hasn't diminished. If anything, it is only throbbing even harder. But she wasn't going to leave now. She couldn't. Not after everything her mother just said. This was the most honest that Shelby had ever been with her and despite how clearly painful it was for the both of them, Rachel couldn't deny how good it also felt to finally hear the truth. It had taken them almost two years for all of this to come out. She's afraid that if she left now, she may never get this opportunity again.

"I guess I have been a little hard on you."

"You have a right to be, Rachel," Shelby acknowledged. "Maybe I don't deserve it but I would appreciate it if you would cut me even just a little bit of slack. I know I've made mistakes. I know I haven't handled everything well. Trust me, I know. You don't necessarily have to remind me."

"Or constantly throw it in your face?"

"No," Shelby smiled wearily. "Not that either. Listen, I know I'm leaving again and so maybe this won't mean anything to you anymore, but I did come back to yes, reach out to Puck and Quinn for Beth, but also for you Rachel, you have to know that I came back here for you too."

"I don't know, could have fooled me," Rachel shrugged, unable to stop the quip from escaping her lips.

"There were so many things I wanted to say to you, Rachel. I had so many things planned," Shelby continued, ignoring the jab. "I was going to apologize. I prepared a speech. I was going to try to make it up to you. But then, when I saw you that first day I got here, you had fire in your eyes kid and you were just so angry and so hurt. And I was so afraid because I didn't want to anger you or hurt you anymore than I already had. I didn't want to cause you any more pain. So, I thought it was better for me to just stay away, leave you alone, and reach out to Quinn and Puck instead because I could relate to them. I understood where they were coming from with Beth, and I really did want them to be a part of her life. I wanted them to build that connection and have that relationship that we never got to have. It still is important to me for them to have that."

Rachel ran a hand over her face and inhaled deeply to settle her emotions. "I _really_ don't want to talk about this but Puck?"

"Was a one-time thing, a terrible mistake," Shelby answered bluntly and convincingly. "It was… a horrible lapse of judgment. And a sincerely selfish thing for me to do. I was feeling lonely and insecure. I absolutely regret it. And if I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. It should have never happened, and I told Noah that. I apologized, and I take full responsibility. I'm the adult. I should have _never_ let it get that far, and I'll never forgive myself for it. But I, I need you to know that I'm not that kind of person though, Rachel, I don't do things like this. I don't… I regret it. Probably more than I can express."

"Okay," Rachel nodded as though she had been expecting as much and accepted the explanation at face-value. She knew all the blame couldn't solely be placed on Shelby. It did take two. "Does he know you're leaving?"

"He came by earlier to say goodbye to Beth," Shelby swallowed thickly. "Quinn too."

"So everyone but me got invited for a goodbye."

"Rachel—"

"Where are you even going?" The thought just occurred to her.

"Back to New York," Shelby said, the question reminding her to continue to packing. "I kept my apartment there and a friend of mine wants to create some sort of business for parents on Broadway. I'm thinking of helping her get it started. I think my mistake the last time Beth and I were there was that I was trying to do too much. But I think this could be a good opportunity to shift gears and do my own thing, be my own boss, make my own time so that I can focus on Beth and on what really matters."

Rachel hummed thoughtfully in response. Despite how betrayed she felt, she's not once allowed herself to harbor any resentment towards the baby. Beth was innocent in this. And she couldn't, as difficult as it was, hold any bitterness over the adoption. At the very least, she was determined not to. Especially after learning now that Shelby couldn't have any more children. But Rachel also couldn't deny the insecurities that it spurred or the inadequacies that she felt. Why wasn't she enough?

"I really did mean what I told you during Regionals… I needed balance. I wanted a family," Shelby said, picking up on Rachel's internal debate. "I was nearing 40 then Rachel and all I had to show for it were trophies and titles. And adopting was… it's something that I've been wanting to do since I found out I couldn't have another child of my own. I started the process years ago, before we met, before Beth came into the picture. I went through the evaluations, the legal hoops. I got approved. But I wasn't ready then. It took meeting you to realize that it was time for me to have… _more._ And I need you to know that I didn't turn down your offer to come coach the New Directions because of you or because of anything that you did. I just… it wouldn't have been enough for me, Rachel. Only seeing you for two hours a day and not being able to truly have you in my life… it wouldn't have been enough. It would have driven me insane. Even the past few months, only seeing you in class or catching glimpses of you in the hallway, I felt like I was going crazy. It's not enough. But anyway, I just... I adopted Beth because she needed me, and I needed her. We need each other, but she… she isn't your replacement, honey."

Shelby exhaled miserably at the subsequent silence that followed. She looked at Rachel and her heart throbbed with shame upon the troubled expression her daughter's face held. And it was with an uncontrollable desperation in that moment that Shelby wished that she could have taken it all back. That she could have fought for her when she had the chance and when it mattered most. But she hadn't. For one reason or another, because of her own faults and shortcomings, she hadn't. And consequently, the reality was that for all intents and purposes, it really was too late for them. But the best she could do now was try to salvage the disastrous, convoluted, exhausting relationship they had and put the pieces back together so they could move forward. Because having Rachel in her life, in one way, shape, or form was better than not having her at all. That much she knew.

"Rachel?"

"Do you hate me? I'm sorry. I have been so mean to you. I've been awful and treated you so horribly. And I… do you hate me?"

"Oh Rachel, no, of course not," Shelby shook her head dejectedly. She dropped the CDs in her hand into yet another box and crossed the room to sit down in the vacant spot on the couch. "I could never hate you, Rachel. Never. I'm not even angry or upset with you."

Out of all the things Shelby had to be mad about in her life, they way Rachel was a person, her thoughts and her feelings were not among them. She couldn't say the same for herself. But whatever Rachel was feeling, how she was acting, it was all valid. And Shelby had no right to question that or belittle it.

Forgoing her self-restraint, she carefully maneuvered her arms around the girl's shoulder and pulled her close, trying hard not to cry at the thought that it had been seventeen years before she ever got to do that, and she was uncertain of when she would ever get the chance to again. Rachel was so tense that Shelby was afraid that she might be hurting her.

"You have every right to feel how you feel, Rachel," Shelby said as she absentmindedly rubbed a soothing pattern onto her daughter's arm, smiling internally when the girl began to melt into her embrace. "I couldn't hate you for that. I could never hate _you_. I don't think you realize, Rachel, just how wonderful I truly think you are. I have also spent years dreaming of what you would be like. And you're better than what I could have ever imagined. If Beth even grows up to be half as beautiful and smart and talented and incredibly unique as you are, I would consider myself the luckiest mom in the world. I don't… I could never hate you, baby. Please don't think that."

Shelby flinched when Rachel drew a hand up and gently wiped away tears she didn't even realize she had begun to shed, the gesture effectively shattering the last of her heart into even more pieces. "Do you hate me?"

"No. Sometimes. I don't know. I thought I did. But I think that was because I didn't quite understand you."

"And now?"

"I still don't understand you," Rachel confessed then subconsciously leaned her head against her mother's shoulder, surprised at the level of comfort it brought. "But I do know that I want to at least try."

"Yeah? Well I'll take it, kid," Shelby said, braving a kiss on top of soft brown tresses. "I do want to fix things between us, Rachel. More than anything. But I want to do it on your terms this time. I will do whatever it is you want or you need from me. I just can't…"

"Stay," Rachel figured.

"No," Shelby nodded sadly. "I can't. I don't think it would be fair. I may not have thought things through when I decided to come back here, and look at how well that turned out. I think it's time for me and Beth to return to where we belong. And I think that the best thing would be for me to leave and give everyone here some space. It's your senior year. You, Noah, and Quinn are only going to experience this once, you know? I don't want to ruin it. Or intrude anymore. None of you need any more added drama or stress. What do you think?"

Despite her shifting attitude towards the woman, Rachel still couldn't help but agree. Although she was beginning to formulate a renewed understanding about the enigma that was her mother, she still had an mountain of unresolved feelings she had to work through. This conversation hadn't really changed any of that. But it provided her with a start. "Yeah, I agree. But… will you be okay?"

Shelby squeezed lightly at the unexpected empathy, attempting to ingrain the feeling of holding her daughter into her memory. "I'll be just fine, Rachel. I—there's a lot I need to work out personally, and I think it's past time for me to begin to resolve some of my issues. I want to be better, especially as a mother. I need to get it together. Try harder. I see that now. For Beth. And for you, Rachel."

"Okay, I understand."

Shelby stared down at the, in her mind, still very much, little girl in her arms, trying to figure out if she really did understand. If she ever could. On instinct, she reached out and brushed a strand of loose brown hair away from Rachel's face.

"I just don't want us to keep _admiring each other from afar_. I want us to stop pretending like we don't mean anything to one another. I don't want to be just anyone to you."

"Rachel," Shelby paused, breathing in and finally diving off the cliff without looking back. "You are my daughter. You have never, and will never, be just _anyone_ to me. No matter what, you are mine and that means that _you_ are everything. You're everything."

"_Mom,_ I… I…"

"I know, baby," Shelby cut through the labored exhalations and strained sniffling and encompassed her daughter in her embrace completely, the effect of that one word filling the gaping hole in her heart. "I love you too."

That was all it took for Rachel to lose any lingering inhibitions and she threw her arm around Shelby and buried her face in her chest in a way that she had only dreamed about before. The warm smell of lavender perfume infiltrated her airways, and Rachel was sure that she'd always connect the scent with her mother now. "When will I see you again?"

"Soon," Shelby assured. "Whenever you want, whenever you're ready. I will wait for you. And hopefully, we'll both be in New York next year? Either way, we can keep in touch, Rachel. I'd like to keep in touch. You can call me or text me anytime or even add me on that Face-booth thing. I just got one."

"It's Facebook," Rachel chuckled lightly, wiping away her tears with her free hand. "And I'd like that very much."

"Me too," Shelby smiled, hugging tightly to emphasize how much while another long, drawn-out yawn fell from the girl's lips. Her eyes drifted to the window and she noticed, for the first time in hours, the absence of the wind howling, the hail pelting, the thunder and lightning crashing. The only evidence remaining of the storm was the peaceful thrumming of the rain.

"How about you get some sleep, Rach? I still have to finish packing, but I can wake you up in a couple hours. The weather is better and I think it's going to let up soon but I… I'd still like it if you stayed a little while longer."

"Okay," Rachel nodded, the comfort, the warmth, the steady cadence of the rainfall already pulling her under. "And then when I wake up, we'll say goodbye?"

"And then when you wake up, we'll say goodbye," Shelby confirmed, gently placing the throw blanket over the two of them.

"But can you please stay with me for now?" Rachel asked, her voice soft and thick with sleep.

Shelby drew her daughter in close and held on tight with a renewed purpose, clarity, and promise washing over her, baptizing her like the slowly falling rain outside. "Yes. I will stay with you for now."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you again for joining me for this one. Couldn't get this out of my head, so it had to be written. I know I'm not leaving S3 S and R with a cure-all, but I do hope I'm at least leaving them in a better place than where we found them.**


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